


The Logic in the Warehouse

by runawayballista



Category: Bones (TV), Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-19
Updated: 2011-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawayballista/pseuds/runawayballista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zack is given a second chance at having a life when he's recruited for the Warehouse. It's going to require some mentality adjustments. [AU from Season 3 finale]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Logic in the Warehouse

**Author's Note:**

> The events of the Season 3 finale have been AU'd for the purpose of this crossover: HG put the force field around the bomb, so the Warehouse is intact, HG and Mrs. Frederic are alive, and Claudia ran off and revived Jinks with the metronome. Takes place a few months after the conclusion of Season 3 of Warehouse 13 and nebulously somewhere in Season 7 of Bones.

 

 

It was dark outside when the orderly led Zack into the room where he typically met with Dr. Sweets. He knew this because he had read the paper that morning, and the weather section had told him that the sun would set at 5:13 that evening, and his wristwatch had just ticked half past five. It also helped that the windows in the room were dark, the only light coming from the dim overhead light that swung gently back and forth from its fixture in the ceiling. Zack told the orderly, as he had every day for the past six days, that the lightbulb needed to be changed, that it flickered every so often, and that it would go out any time now. The orderly said nothing and held the door open for Zack. He was gone before the door closed behind him.

After dark, the overhead light did little to brighten up the room beyond a small halo of light around the table. Zack took a seat at the table, knowing that Sweets would probably not arrive for at least another three minutes. Zack was always at least three minutes early to all of their appointments.

He rubbed at his eyes. He was more fatigued than usual today. He had attributed it to a particularly restless sleep from the previous night. He didn’t usually wake with memories of his dreams, but this morning he’d started awake, the images from his nightmares still on the backs of his eyelids, quickly fading. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had nightmares.

The quiet clack of heels sounded in the room.

Zack looked up, alarmed. A figure emerged from the darkness at the end of the room.

She was a black woman, bespectacled, and on the tail end of her middle-aged years. Everything about her appearance struck Zack as somehow out of place, from the conspicuous beehive hairstyle to the tweed skirt suit, colored a deep mauve. Zack knitted his brow as she approached the table, a nervous feeling he couldn’t explain rising in his chest.

“Hello, Dr. Addy.” Her voice was level and measured.

“I’m supposed to be seeing Dr. Sweets,” he said, as patiently as he could.

“I’m not Dr. Sweets.” The woman stopped at the table, but didn’t take the seat opposite Zack. He shrunk slightly in his chair.

“Evidently.” Zack studied her features intently, now that she was within range of the light, bafflement still written plainly on his face. “Who are you?”

“My name is Mrs. Frederic,” she said, folding her hands in front of her, “and you’ll be seeing me today.”

Something about the way she stood there, as if ignoring the chair in front of her, made Zack uneasy. “Are you another psychologist with the FBI?”

She smiled thinly. “No, Dr. Addy,” she said. “I’m with the Secret Service.”

Zack frowned. “What does the secret service want with me?”

“A great many things.” Her expression was unreadable, her gaze impossibly steady. Zack couldn’t help but blink. “You’re a very intelligent young man.”

“That’s an understatement,” Zack said, completely earnest. “By most people’s standards, I’m a genius.”

Most people would have laughed, or rolled their eyes, or displayed some sign of annoyance. Mrs. Frederic’s expression didn’t so much as ripple. “Exactly. And that’s why I’m here to make you an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

“A job, Dr. Addy.” Mrs. Frederic seemed to lean forward slightly, but it could have been a trick of the light. “The Secret Service could use someone with your skills and intellect.”

“That’s impossible,” Zack scoffed. “I’m here because I committed a murder. I find this job offer very hard to believe.”

“I think we both know you’ve never killed anyone.” Mrs. Frederic’s eyes glittered in the dark.

“You don’t know that,” Zack said stubbornly, but her conviction made him falter.

“Don’t I?”

“I — I only ever told Dr. Sweets about that.”

“It would seem so,” Mrs. Frederic murmured.

“How could you possibly know?”

“It hardly matters.”

Zack stared across the table at her, that nervous feeling coiling tighter in his chest. He swallowed.

“There’s no need for you to be so nervous,” she said, almost dismissively. “I’m here to offer you a job. Not just a job — a new life. A glimpse into a world of endless wonder.” The corners of her mouth tugged upward for just a moment. “Your crimes will be expunged. You will be captive to no facility — outside of work, you are free to do as you please. You won’t go home to a cot in a cell.”

“I don’t understand,” Zack said desperately.

“It’s very simple: you can accept my offer, and you walk out of here tomorrow. If you choose to decline — and that choice is yours to make — I can assure you that you’ll never hear from me again.” One manicured hand reached up to adjust her glasses ever so slightly. “I doubt another opportunity like this is going to present itself in the future, however. Choose carefully, Dr. Addy.”

Zack didn’t know what to say. The sound of his breathing filled the room, and crossed his arms, tucking his gloved hands gently beneath them. “If you know about the circumstances of the crime I committed, then you must know about the explosion. I no longer possess the requisite manual dexterity to practice forensic anthropology.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Zack knitted his brow. “What do you mean? You’re not offering to hire me as a forensic anthropologist?”

“I am interested in your vast intellect and your wide range of experiences. I have found that those with unique experiences often tend to come up with unique solutions to problems presented to them. That’s the exact sort of skill set that could be of great use at the Warehouse.”

“The Warehouse?”

“Yes.” To Zack’s displeasure, her simple answer contained no further explanation. Zack faltered.

“But my sessions with Dr. Sweets,” he started. “And my physical therapy — ”

“All of your needs can be met,” Mrs. Frederic said swiftly. “I’m afraid, however, that as a result of the location, you won’t be able to see Dr. Sweets anymore. This assignment, should you choose to accept it, is highly classified.”

“Am I allowed contact with my friends?”

“But of course.” Another hint of a smile. “There are, of course, some conditions, with regards to the classified status of the Warehouse. But the answer is yes.”

“What kind of work would I be doing, exactly?”

“Problem solving, Dr. Addy.” Mrs. Frederic was ever patient.

“And I could leave tomorrow?”

“First thing in the morning.”

Zack hesitating, swallowing again. His mouth suddenly felt full of cotton. His hands had begun to sweat inside the gloves. He glanced out the window, which was frosted and obscured his view of the dark outside, but he could imagine it. He remembered in fine detail what it looked like.

“Okay,” he said, finally, resting his hands on the table. He looked up at Mrs. Frederic, whose figure seemed to melt into the shadows just beyond the reach of the light. “Okay. I’ll do it.” 

 

===

 

“What do you _mean_ he’s been relocated? No — listen — no, _you_ listen to _me_. I’m not just his psychologist, I’m with the FBI, and you can’t just carry a patient of mine out of a secure facility _just because_ — what does the Secret Service have anything to do with this? Okay, no, they can’t have had any authorization to move Zack Addy out of your facility, because _I_ would have needed to authorize any — hello? Oh, come _on_.”

Sweets hung up the telephone with a terse hand that only just refrained from slamming it onto the receiver. Well, wasn’t this fabulous. Zack had been spirited away from right under his nose to an undisclosed location, by the _Secret Service_ of all things, and he couldn’t get anyone to answer a single question about exactly how it had happened. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, and spun his chair around to stand up.

Except there was already someone standing directly before him.

“Jesus!” The words jumped from his mouth just as Sweets jumped from the chair, his nerves frayed. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie, quickly recollecting his composure. “Uh — excuse me, I’m sorry. I must…not have seen you come in. Can I help you?”

“My name is Mrs. Frederic,” said the woman, her hands folded perfunctorily in front of her. “I’m with the Secret Service.”

The tight smile immediately disappeared from Sweets’ face. “Are you responsible for the disappearance of my client?”

“He hasn’t disappeared, Dr. Sweets. He has been relocated to better facilitate his rehabilitation.”

“Facilitate his rehabilitation — that’s _my job_ , okay,” Sweets said, indignation quickly creeping into his voice. “And I haven’t seen a single scrap of paperwork about this cross my desk, so you need to tell me what’s going on right now!”

“What’s going on,” Mrs. Frederic said, her face as emotive as a stone wall, “is that the Secret Service has taken custody of Zack Addy.”

Sweets drew in a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, then smiled tersely at Mrs. Frederic. “Okay, haha, look. I think we got off to a bad start with this conversation, what with you…startling me at all. So I’d just like some answers, seeing as no one’s told me exactly _why_ the Secret Service has taken custody of Zack, or how. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

“I’m afraid that information is classified,” said Mrs. Frederic. “I advise that you drop this matter, Dr. Sweets. At any rate, I’m sure you’ll be hearing from Dr. Addy soon.” She smiled thinly at him, giving him an indecipherable look over the rims of her glasses, and turned to exit his office.

“You can’t do this!” Sweets said desperately. “You — there’s _proper channels_ you have to go through! I’ll be opening an investigation over…this…”

Mrs. Frederic was already gone. Sweets let out a long, resigned breath and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers.


End file.
